Spark- A Hunger Games Story
by HungerG94
Summary: Forced to face the Capitol's wrath for her father's blunder, Alana is sent into the Games as means of revenge for the grievances he caused. With her life on the line and fate clashing with twenty-three others, will she have what it takes to make it home, or become another forgotten casualty of the Hunger Games.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello to my loyal readers. I know your waiting for me to update on Open Range. But that story has been put hiatus for now. However, I plan on continuing the story Alpha &Omega: Beginning of the End (A&O:BotE) soon.**

**I know that your reading my (and IHeartUCato)'s stories, so, to you quiet observers, review. It encourages me (us) to keep going. Plus I'd like to know your opinions on my writing and the story itself.**

**This is a story that popped up in my head while I was working on Open Range. It has sort of taken on a mind of its own. It may or may not have sequels. **

**I do not own or claim to own anything Hunger Games related- I'm simply borrowing from Ms. Collins.**

**Chapter One**

I sigh as the water cascades down my back, working out the kinks in my tense and sore muscles. I pull back the shower curtain to glance at the small clock on the bathroom counter before leaning forward into the spray.

"How nice. You only left me with forty-five minutes to get ready to go," I mutter a bit sarcastically under my breath. "I am truly grateful."

As I begin to rinse out any remaining shampoo from my hair, my mind decides to wander. Father, having apparently managed to postpone his trip to the Capitol, woke me at four in the morning so I would have an extended training session.

Today, it seemed, was cause for an much more intense regimen. The simulator kept me moving at a breathless pace, dropping low to avoid incoming knives, rolling from the swing of a ax, to outright countering the slash from a sword with my chakrams, embedding one into the robotic dummy's head. From there we moved to target practice, switching between my most comfortable weapons, chakrams, to the smallest of knives and miniature throwing stars. Each time I hit my mark, though from the look on his face, you'd think I'd failed horribly.

We finished with the endurance tests. I started off doing well, but as I swung across the monkey bars, I could feel his eyes on me. I tried not to look, fighting the urge as long as I could, but it became to much. In my distraction, I missed the grab for the final rung. The momentum caused me to let go, ending with me falling from thirteen feet and sprawled out on the mat below.

"_Alana! What in the hell was that!_," My father yelled, storming over to stand above me. I glanced away from him in both irritation and shame.

"_Do not ignore me! Why did you just stop near the end_?," He asked again. My temper gets the best of me, fueling my response.

"_Because I could feel the damn daggers you were throwing at me with your eyes! What is your problem today anyway?_"

In the time it took me to blink, he managed to stoop down to my eye level. His eyes, normally a bright and lively green now were dark, several emotions raging within them. The most recognizable of them was fear. They held me in place, freezing me to my spot and silencing any response I might have given.

"_What do you think my problem is? Or have you forgotten what day it is?_," he said as he moved a hand to hold the bridge of his nose. He apparently caught my flinch at the tone of his voice, for his gaze softened and he reached out to stroke my cheek.

"_I'm sorry sweetie. I'm not trying to take it out on you. It's just that I want you to be prepared._"

"_But maybe last time, it was just a coincidence_," I said weakly, not for a minute believing it to be true. "_Maybe it was chance._"

"_Alana, you know it was never up to chance. Not for this._" His voice was grim, yet sure as he stated this.

But of course he would be. Who wouldn't forget a threat made by the President himself. My father had been a part of the start of a rebellion in the Capitol. Using his status as head gamemaker, he garnered the attention and backing of many well-known and respected members of the Capitol- many already enemies of Snow- to his cause. It is unknown to my father of how they were discovered, but, nevertheless, the President arranged for those involved to be killed during the banquet for the Victor of the 59th Hunger Games, Thadeus Fluxon of District Two. He willingly went along, taking blame for the murders and receiving a reprieve for having done so.

During the madness, my father had been beaten then taken to the President who, in so many words, told my father that he would be spared only for his ability for making unique Game arenas, however, he would pay for his betrayal to the Capitol one way or another.

Afterward, he was banished to reside here in District Three where he met my mother, Jacqueline. I figured when he told me of his ordeal and began prepping and preparing me on my tenth birthday in his secret training center that he was just being paranoid; on my thirteenth birthday, Snow made a visit to our house. Whatever was said between the two left an impression on my father. Training became longer and increased in difficulty.

The next year, I was reaped for the Games. Before I could part from the crowd, my best and only friend, Chloe Coilton, volunteered in my place. The thought of her breaks me of my revelry.

Turning off the water, I step out onto the bath rug and dry myself off with a towel. I pause to wipe the steam from the mirror and briefly stare at my reflection. It's like I have just the right combination of my parents' looks; my mother's small nose and my father's high cheek bones. Their hair and eye colors have mixed giving me my hazel-ish green eyes, my auburn hair.

From the corner of my eye, the clock reads eleven thirty-seven. I toss my wet towel into the dirty clothes bin and walk to my room. I find my reaping outfit- a cinch collar sweater and tweed-patterned pencil skirt with black leggings- where I left it, strewn on the edge of the bed.

In the next fifteen minutes, I dress, style my hair, and slide on my boots and silvery grey microchip bracelet, before standing in front of the mirror and giving myself a once over. Pleased with the outcome, I grab my coat and make to leave, opening my door to find my father standing there, arm raised and hand poised and positioned to knock.

He lowers it and backs away so that I can exit. "Ready to go, sweetie? Want a quick snack?"

"As ready as I'll ever be and no, I'm not hungry," I reply. We make our way down stairs and head out. I wait on the walkway for the him to lock up the door. Once he's done, we get into his car.

We live in the small suburban area on the edge of the district that mainly the wealthy of District Three reside. Our house is just four down from the entrance of the Victors Village, which sits on small hill. My father goes there frequently, usually on business, to visit the Victor Beetee.

Every once in a while when I was younger, he would allow me to come along, where Beetee would allow me to play with his non-lethal devices or would even create toys that he'd let me keep to take with me and bide the time while, I assume, he and my father ran over different types of technology and designs for the Games.

Outside my window, the scenery changes from lavish houses with beautiful green lawns to the cold uniform gray of the district's factories, only a few in full operation.

On the sidewalks are people walking towards the town square, either dressed in their best attire or in the clothes from their graveyard shift. A few look up to watch us pass before losing interest and continuing forward.

"Have you heard anything at all from mom?," I ask looking out of the window.

"No I haven't. The last I spoke to her was around eleven last night," he answers. "She said she'd probably be be in about two in the morning."

He continues on after seeing my expression. "You know how she gets, always losing track of time and getting caught up in her work, not at all unusual."

I nod in reply and begin to worry my lip, letting the conversation drop from there. She usually calls or makes sure leaves a voice message if she gets the machine.

We pull into a parking deck about a block away from the square. Outside, my father veers off towards the opposite direction.

"Where are you going?," I ask confused.

"Just to check in on your mother and see if she's wrapped everything up at the office." He gives a half smile, saying, "I'll be back before you know it." And with that he's on his way, leaving me alone.

I continue onward, hands in pockets, thankful that I decided to grab my coat. While the cool breeze was tolerable standing outside my house, the wind was unforgiving in the district center, wrapping around the buildings' walls and blowing, full force, from different angles.

The town square comes into view, large colorful banisters and streamers hung up on the sides of buildings and balloons tied to the street lamps around, all of which flap haphazardly in the wind. In front of the steps to the Justice Building is a stage, with chairs off to the side for the past Victors, the mayor, and his family.

On stage, District Three's new escort, Elatia Bornia, seems to switch between an intense conversation with the mayor's wife and giving a brilliant small towards the cameras and crowd that has gathered.

I make my way as quickly as I can to join the census line. Several eyes follow me as I go, filled with either disdain or pity. My father's former status has made my family sort of pariahs, everyone else keeping their distance.

I keep my head up and forward, not looking at anything specific. Sooner than expected I've arrived at the desk.

"Hand please." I give the peacekeeper my hand and he jabs my index finger with a needle, pressing it to a piece of paper. "You can go now."

I walk to the fifteen year old section, lingering near the edge. I already know whose name will be called. The reaping soon begins with the same old boring video of the rebellion of the dark days, its ending, and the ushering of the Annual Games.

I zone out, instead try to spot my parents in the surrounding crowd. There's no sight of them from where I'm standing and I try not to let that get to me.

Elatia's perky voice finally breaks through, having my attention focused back on the stage.

"Happy Hunger Games!" Her accent, like my father's, seems fairly light compared to others from the Capitol. "May the odds be ever in your favor!"

The most of the crowd claps politely, only a few are completely motionless. She smiles a little, pleased with the response.

"Before we begin, let's give it up for District Three's Victors!"

More applause erupts, slightly louder. On stage, Beetee waves, Wiress looks far away somewhere else, and Lilah simply nods.

"Alright! Shall we begin?!" She makes her way to the girls ball first. The square is dead silent but for the whipping wind. Grabbing the handle, she winds it and the ball rotates.

By now the suspense is killing me, leaving my guts in knots. She stops the ball and sticks her hand inside, taking a slip of paper. She glances at it before raising the microphone to her lips.

"And the female tribute of District Three is..." she pauses for dramatic effect. "Alana Wen!"

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**HG94**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's the next chapter. To those who are there, Read and Review. It encourages me to keep going. =B**

**As usual, I do not own or claim to own anything Hunger Games related- I'm simply borrowing from Ms. Collins. No suing please. I'm broke :)**

**Chapter Two**

_By now the suspense is killing me, leaving my guts in knots. She stops the ball and sticks her hand inside, taking a slip of paper. She glances at it before raising the microphone to her lips._

_ "And the female tribute of District Three is..." she pauses for dramatic effect. "Alana Wen!"_

While the outcome isn't really that shocking, hearing Elatia's voice calling out my name makes this official, makes it real. I'm going into the Games. The girls beside me have varying reactions, some smiling wearily, happy that they've been spared this time around while others look around to try and see who reacts to the name called.

All eyes land on me as I step out of the group and, without waiting for the procession of peacekeepers, walk up to the stage, head held up high. I climb the stairs and take my place beside Elatia. She wraps a violet-shaded arm around my shoulders briefly before heading to the boys reaping ball.

I look out in the crowd as she spins it, trying to locate my parents. I don't have any luck, only meeting the pitying gaze of an random stranger.

_They should be here by now,_ I think to myself, irritated. Why aren't they here? Father said that it'd take him no time to find mom.

"And the male tribute is... Gloxen Tribune!" brings me back to the immediate situation. Stepping from the the thirteen year old section, a thin pale boy in dress clothes a size to big makes his way out, his curly blond hair blowing into his face.

Out in the crowd a woman- I assume his mom- cries out, trying to run to him. She's promptly caught and held off by peacekeepers, forced to watch helplessly as he mounts the stage.

"Well let's give it up for the 74th Hunger Games District Three tributes, Alana Wen and Gloxen Tribune!" The crowd claps briefly. Elatia turns to us.

"Go on, shake each others hands."

Gloxen and I face each other and extend hands. His- or mine, I can't tell- palm is sweaty and is shivering slightly. I catch a glimpse of his eyes, brown and glossed over with freely running tears before I let go and turn away.

We're both ushered into the Justice Building, past the well decorated lobby filled with camera technician's monitoring screens of the stage and the important officials of Three then, put into separate rooms across from one another. It hasn't changed much from the last time I was here. Once the door closes behind me, I begin to pace back and forth, my feet sinking into the plush carpet.

They didn't show, my parents. How could they not, knowing how good of a chance it was of me being reaped. Even now, when they should be rushing in to console me, to at least say their final goodbyes, they're no where to be found.

Anger and hurt rage on in me, making it hard for me to keep the tears at bay. I blink repeatedly to stop them from falling. It doesn't help to think that I am in the same room Chloe was last year.

I flop down onto the love seat, brushing away the few strands of hair that come flying on my face, and begin to take deep breaths to calm myself. What's done is done. I can't afford tears now, especially with the cameras that are sure to be at the train station. I can't afford to look weak.

When I feel I'm more under control of my emotions I stand again and glance out the window. Most of my view is obscured by a neon green banner, but from what I can see most of the crowd has already slunk away, just a few taking their time to go on with their business.

Tinkering behind me has me turning to see the door opening. My mouth starts running before I can help it.

"Well it's about goddamn time you showed up! What took you two so-" The door opens quickly and a peacekeeper comes rushing in, shutting the door behind him then rushes towards me. I'm reacting purely on reflex, dodging to the side before kicking at my assaulter s side.

A voice in the back of mind tells me that I should be yelling out for assistance, but I don't. The peacekeeper recovers, moving in once again while deflecting my punches. He reaches a hand to grab at me, but I jerk away and reach forward, slapping him across the face.

Not a smart move on my part; he's wearing a protective glass covering. If anything, it only hurts me and makes him angry. He tackles me to the floor, settling his weight down on my legs and pins my hands above my head with one hand. I'm defenseless, subjected to whatever it is that he'll try to do.

I'd think being chosen tribute would keep me relatively safe until I reached the arena, but I guess that I was wrong. After all, Snow could always reap another girl from the district and say that I was eliminated for trying to escape or something similar. I wouldn't put it past him.

The peacekeeper reaches with his free hand to his side. The only thing visible to me from there are the handle to a knife... and a pistol. I know struggling is useless, so I do the only thing I can; I scream.

He jams his fist over my mouth with unnecessary force, then hisses, "Shut the hell up, Alana!"

I stop, not because he asked, but because of his voice... He sounded just like... He lifts the cover up to reveal the face of my best friend's brother.

"Buzz?!" It's the only thing I can say, can think of. He's stares back at me for a moment, eyes devoid of any emotion, then releases me and stands up. I slowly rise, confused and wary of him. Why was he here now, after avoiding me for so long. We were never close, never even friends, our only form of connection being Chloe. Then there was the questions of why he was dressed up as a peacekeeper and why'd he attacked me in the first place.

I open my mouth to ask him all of this, but he speaks quickly, cutting me off.

"Your father sent me here to tell you he couldn't come and to give you this." He reached down into his pocket and pulls out a letter, which he then carelessly tosses to me. "It explains everything." I lean forward, barely catching it, then look up to see him half way to the door.

"So that's it? You have nothing to say to me," I ask.

"What exactly is there to say?"

"How about you why you choose now to make a appearance. Or how you decided to attack me instead of just handing me the letter like a normal person."

His face goes from blank to furious in the span of a second, taking me by surprise.

"I don't owe you a damn thing, not an explanation or anything for that matter," he snarls coldly. "And you should be glad that all I did was tackle you. It could have been much worse."

There's a brief pause as I wait for him to calm down before responding.

"What did I ever do to you?"

A cruel half smile appears on his face as he answers, making my blood run cold.

"You killed my sister." And with that he's gone, the door is slammed and I'm left all alone.

-o.0.O.0.o-

I'm left to wait for the last twenty minutes of visitation alone. I just sit their, switching between confusion, fear and hurt. Confusion as to why my father and mother decided to leave me an note instead of seeing me off.

The fear is for the obvious, the Games, but also for the letter. I haven't opened it because I'm sure it contains something I won't like, something horrible. I don't need that at the moment; I'm already at the edge and it won't take much to send me off. For the cameras I must be strong.

Hurt. That's the worse of the three, much worse. Buzz made sure to let me know his opinion concerning Chloe, only confirming what I believe myself; I killed my best friend. Because of me she's gone and I did nothing to stop it.

When she volunteered last year I did nothing, still frozen from hearing my name being called and made more stiff as I watched her mount the stage, bright blue eyes determined and long ebony locks pulled back with the black and red friendship scrunchie I'd given to her two years before.

I didn't protest or shout. I did nothing but look on as she went on in my place, even let her reassure me when I visited her in the Justice Building, tears running down my face. I was safe at home as I watched her wave cheerfully at the cameras during the chariot parade in nothing but coils of lights, as she manage to surprise the Capitol with her training score of 8, as she flirted with the crowd and told of her fear of losing me, causing her to volunteer during her interview.

And I watched as she struggled through the arena, partnering with the boys from 5 and 6 and girl from 8, as she fought for her life from the the career pack with nothing but a thin sword, from the eagle-wolf mutts who tore two of her partners to pieces right before her.

I looked on as she made it from the final six, to the final four, to the final two, coming so close to being back home only to be choked to death by the boy from 1. And here I was, alive and well watching what should have happened to me.

I don't blame Buzz for feeling the way he does. He's right; he could have done a lot worse. After all, I deserved it.

The peacekeepers come in to retrieve me. Once Gloxen is out of his room, we're both lead into a car, along with Elatia, then driven to the train station. The ride is less than five minutes, but I try to imagine it is longer, glancing out my window to drink in every last detail of District Three.

We're there too soon. Before stepping out I turn to Gloxen and grab a hold of his hand. He stares at me for a moment before looking down. He doesn't take his hand away though. Together we step out onto the platform, allowing the paparazzi to get photos. I place a fake bright smile on my face and glance at a nearby screen. It looks genuine, for which I'm glad. Gloxen is giving a sad half smile that's both heartbreaking and adorable all at once. Eventually Elatia pulls us forward toward the train doors.

The doors shut behind us, cutting off the thousands of questions of 'how excited are you for the Games' and 'are you really the daughter of **the** Nimmo Redpath' and the flashing lights from the cameras. I let go of Gloxen's hand reluctantly before turning to Elatia.

"Thank the heavens that that is over. Such a dreadful event it is." I'm just left staring at her in shock. I've never exactly met a escort before, but I doubt that this something of the ordinary.

"Hmm. Surprised, are you? Just because I have gotten this job doesn't mean I'm happy to do it. Anyway dearies, let's get you to your rooms." She walks off into a nearby door. I glance to Gloxen, who looks confused before following after her.

After we've caught up, she points to two rooms across from one another.

"Here you are. You van freshen up or rest for a bit before lunch. But I don't suggest taking a nap. We're only five hours away the Capitol." She heads past us back to the room we just left, but pats our shoulders before continuing. "Meet back in the dining area for lunch on thirty."

We nod and she's off. I open the door to my room to see a beautifully decorated room. There's lavender everywhere, blended into several shades of purple and black. I walk over to the king sized bed and sit on it's edge. The material is soft and fluffy between my fingers. As I shift slightly to watch the surroundings pass by through the window, I feel paper crumple in my jacket pocket. The letter.

I'd completely forgotten about it. Sighing to myself, I pull it out and begin to unfold it. Once that's done, I begin to read.

_To my little girl,_

_Alana, I am so sorry for leaving you like I did but you must know that it was for you and your safety. There's no easy way for me to say this but I must. Jacqueline... your mother... they got to her. She's gone. It had to have happened sometime last night, because... the blood. It had dried and there was so much. She was so cold. So cold_

_Snow has lost interest in me. I'm wanted sweetie. I can't stay here in Three or he'll send them again. By the time you read this, I'll be long gone, Hopefully you are reading this, but just to be safe I haven't disclosed where I'll be._

_As ironic as it sounds, your being in the Games is your protection. As long as your in the public eye, your safe. In the arena, they're likely to give you hell, so during the interview and training, do your best to win over the crowd. If you're a fan favorite, they'll have to keep you around._

_I know you're probably scared and confused, probably even angry, but sweetie, if you know anything know that I love you. _

_Dad_

_P.S. Destroy this letter as soon you've read it._

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**HG94**


	3. Chapter 3

**The next chapter is here! Sorry for the long wait, but real life and school was overwhelming. My next update may take sometime, but around the middle/end of May I should be free to do as I please. ^w^**

**As I've said before, to those who are there, Read and Review. It encourages me to keep going. =B**

**Special thanks to BamItsTyler, seanthesheep356, OceaneBreeze13, ForeverYoung362, Theuglyduckling492, Lisa, ElementalEvolution, Guest 22, and .37(that name is so ironic), and anyone I might've forgotten for reviewing my story. It means the world to me that you took the time to do so.**

**As usual, I do not own or claim to own anything Hunger Games related- I'm simply borrowing from Ms. Collins. :) **

**Chapter Three**

_I know you're probably scared and confused, probably even angry, but sweetie, if you know anything know that I love you. _

_Dad_

_P.S. Destroy this letter as soon you've read it._

At least fifteen minutes have passed since I finished reading the letter my father left for me. It's been twelve since I followed his instructions, ripping the crinkled sheet into teeny bits and pieces, hoping to obliterate every bit of his message, word for word.

I'm not sure if the force of which I ripped was to prevent his message from being found out or if it was my way of subconsciously trying to shove away my new found knowledge. Hopefully it was the former, for doing so had no effect on the latter.

The next nine minutes after are when my vision blurs and the tears held in for too long begin to fall, leading to my current position now, curled in on myself in a fetal position on the floor crying my eyes out.

My father is on the run, wanted dead by the Capitol. My mother _is_ dead, murdered in cold blood by... someone. The letter didn't give specifics, so it most likely wasn't done by the average peacekeeper. But if not then who did?

On top of the pain is the guiltiness I feel. Guilt for thinking of only myself during the visitation period while my father was preparing his escape, while my mother had joined Chloe in a better place. A sob wracks my body, a little louder than I'd like. I don't want anyone to come in and see me like this.

I wish that none of this had ever happened, starting with my reaping last year. I wish that I could be back at home, tucked into the corner of the window seat in my father's study with a book on the occasion that he was out on business. Or that I could be sprawled out on the roof of the product testing factory alongside Chloe, either talking the time away or just looking up at the sky as the day would come to a close.

"Hmph. Nimmo's spoken so highly of you, of how he's trained you to your peak potential, that your senses are attuned and at their best."

Damn it. How hadn't I heard anyone come in. A voice speaks up from in front of me. I can't really see much but a humanoid blob through the tears, but the unknown person is obviously female.

"Perhaps his words were simply boasts, for all I've seen for the past three minutes is a sniveling little girl with emotion's she can't control."

I furiously wipe my face in the elbow crease of my jacket before slowly starting to sit up. Taking a good look, I see that it's Lilah Paetro, this years female mentor. The twenty-four year old is the most recent edition to District Three's small collection of Victors.

I don't know her personally, but I've heard of her, mostly from conversations between my parents and Beetee, about how intelligent she is, but how it's overshadowed by her arrogance and cynicism. I know enough though and, more importantly, have seen the Games she participated in.

She won the 67th Hunger Games at the age of seventeen, having survived and taken out over five other tributes by using stealth, her observations of the arena and several snares. She placed well-hidden traps under piles of snow that severely injured her opponents with flying projectiles, or corralled them to face each other or some creation of the gamemakers.

When it came to the final two showdown against the boy from seven, she lead him through a game of cat and mouse, weaving back and forth between the trees before reaching a narrow pass between a cliff. At the entrance, she'd pretend to stumble before the entrance of a cave.

The boy, close behind her, tripped on her trap and dropped his ax in the process. Taking advantage of this, she grabbed for it, embedding it into his side before pulling it out and using it to knock on the rocks behind her.

The roar that ensued had her running a safe distance away, but close enough to watch, eyes cold and calculating, pale lips in a thin line, as the white behemoth of a mutt came down on seven, who'd tried to crawl away, tearing him apart.

If not for the simple knee length tan dress she's wearing, the lightly applied makeup, and high maintenance ponytail, it'd appear as if she'd never left the arena, her dark brown eyes appearing black watching me if I was her prey.

My voice is rough as begin to respond.

"I don't see how my abilities can come into play in our current surroundings. And what I do in the privacy of my room is my business. Why are you here anyway?"

"To check in on who I'm supposed to be mentoring this time around," she says, rather snidely. "Honestly, how dense are you?"

I just look up at her, in no mood to start a confrontation with this woman.

"Well you've done what you came to do so you're free to go now."

She simply continues to stare. Just. Stare.

Finally she turns around and steps out into the hallway, but not without leaving me with parting words.

"Pull yourself together. You've grieved, allowed yourself to accept what has happened, even if just a little. Now bottle it up and shove it as far away as you can. Showing any sign of weakness, making any mistake now can be a matter of life and death. Dwelling on the past will only distract you in the long run."

The silence after her departure is deafening and unsettling. Her words join in on the rest of the thoughts rummaging about in my mind.

What she wants me to do is easier said than done and nothing that I haven't already thought about during the last few minutes, but in the end I know she's right,.

I've allowed myself a bit of time to mourn over my losses and today's events, but I can't dwell on them. I don't have the time. Besides, sitting here crying will change nothing, so I must stop.

Still sniffling a little, I bring my knees up to my chest and hug them, then slowly begin to take deep breaths to calm myself down. _In. Out. In. Out._ I keep up this mantra until my breathing evens out and I'm barely sniffling.

Seven more minutes have passed by now, leaving me with just eight to be ready for lunch. Standing, I stretch out before leaning over to get the shredded slivers of paper off of the bed. Once they're in hand I walk towards the door on the right wall and into the bathroom.

The bathroom is huge, slightly larger than the one I have back home. The trashcan is right beside the sink, so I begin to hold my hand over the edge to toss away the scraps. But it doesn't feel right to just get rid of it here. I instead pocket it in my coat then turn my attention to the wide mirror on the wall.

My eyes aren't puffy or bloodshot, thankfully, but the makeup beneath my eyes is ruined, black tear streaks running down my cheeks. I grab a dry wash cloth and wet it before wiping off all of the makeup on my face. Once it is gone, I splash some water on my face.

Reaching for another dry cloth, I pat dry my face and stare at my reflection. And... I'm good. There's no sign of my previous breakdown. I contemplate redoing my makeup, eying the panel for cosmetics on the counter, but decide against it and walk out of the bathroom.

I've entered my room for less than a second before there's knocking at the door.

"Come on, dear. Lunch is about to begin; the avoxes have started setting the table," says Elatia in a soft voice. Her heels can be heard clicking down the hallway soon after.

Sighing, I open my door, step out into the compartment and walk down the hall. I pass through the small area that we came through while boarding the train and into the next cart.

I'm immediately bombarded with the smell and sight of several familiar and exotic dishes. Gloxen is already at the table, a bowl full of a dark broth sitting in front of him. Across from him is Beetee, eating from a bowl of fruits and at his side is Elatia, tucking herself up to the table before grabbing a Caesar salad.

They all look up to see me entering.

"How are you feeling," asks Beetee, concern oozing off of him.

I try a smile, feel like I'm grimacing, then stop. "I've had better days."

A knowing look passes over his features before he nods.

"Haven't we all?"

After that conversation is kept to a minimal aside from the occasional request for someone to pass one dish or another. I grab up two sweet rolls and reach for a large mug full of hot tea.

I hardly have an appetite; after one roll and half a cup of tea, I'm full. However, everyone else it seems doesn't have much of a problem, especially Gloxen who at the moment is slowly devouring a nice slice of red velvet cake.

When he finds me looking, he lowers his head a little, his cheeks flushing a bit and his hair covering his eyes.

"Sawry."

I lean in a little closer to him before asking him to repeat himself.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," I say to him. "And you don't have to look down."

Slowly he starts to lift his head again and glance at me. His face is flushed even more than before and he looks even more embarrassed. I probably shouldn't speak but my mouth is running before I'm aware.

"You must really like red velvet, huh?" I turn away in hopes of trying to help him calm down. "Personally I love chocolate."

There's a moment of silence where I think he's decided just to ignore me, which is probably for the best, but then I hear a quiet response.

"Mom doesn't like for me to eat sw-sweets. She s-says that it'll ruin my dinner. And give me another cavity." He shows me where he'd had to have one removed once before.

"Besides with where were heading..."

He doesn't finish, but does he really need to. It's obvious he has little to no chance of winning and he's aware of that, obviously living while he can.

I look across the table to see Elatia's pitying turquoise gaze focused onto Gloxen. Surprisingly enough I spot Beetee surreptitiously glancing my way between bites of food. Realizing he's caught sits up straight and wipes his hands on a napkin as the compartment door opens.

"I'm sure you all have engorged yourselves for the time being. Reaping recaps are about to begin at any second and, since some people feel the need to neglect their jobs, I guess it falls to me to get things moving along."

I inadvertently sigh at the sound of Lilah's voice. Beetee frowns at Lilah who ignores the look completely, entering into the next car while Elatia's face glows a faint purple against her pale blue skin as she rushes out of her seat while checking the time on her watch.

"Oh my Games, I can't believe I let the time pass me by," she says. "We must hurry to the viewing area."

With that said, everyone follows her into the next car down. A large sectional takes up the room with an loveseat and single chair positioned around a oval shaped glass table with a small small bonsai tree placed as the center piece. A large floor to wall screen is embedded in the wall facing the sectional.

Lilah has taken the single chair so I go to sit between Beetee and Gloxen, who has curled into the corner of the extended portion, and Elatia sits alone on the loveseat.

She glances around at everyone to make sure they're situated before clicking on the television as I sip on my now cool cup of tea.

_"Well this should be good."_

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	4. Chapter 4

**Nothing much to say here other than sorry for the late update, I'll be changing some of the other tributes from the other districts (Don't want this story to be canon with the insertion of an OC [V,V]) and I do not own or claim to own anything Hunger Games related- I'm simply borrowing from Ms. Collins. :) **

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter Four**

_She glances around at everyone to make sure they're situated before clicking on the television as I sip on my now cool cup of tea. _

_ "Well this should be good."_

The Capitol's insignia takes up a majority of the screen for a minute or two before lighting up to the smiling faces of Claudius Templesmith and Caesar Flickerman.

Each year Caesar's signature color changes from one extreme to the next. Last year his hair and lip coloring was a deep, void-less black. He had even gone to the extremes of changing the colors of his irises and the whites of his eyes to the same deep black. You couldn't tell where one began or ended. The effect seemed demonic.

I'm glad that he hasn't done anything of the such this time, though he still looks quite strange with the bright blue hair and lip stick and suit. Beside him, Claudius seems much more tamed in his appearance of what appears to be just a crisp black suit with a well pressed white dress shirt.

"Welcome everyone to the 74th Annual Hunger Games!," booms the energetic voice of Caesar.

"Welcome indeed," says Claudius, smiling. "This Games will be certainly entertaining, what with there being an special twist to these in regards to next year's Quarter Quell!"

A twist? Sounds like the arena will probably be even more hellish. I doubt it's a coincidence either. At least I won't have to participate in that fresh hell next year. Every twenty-five years, a Quarter Quell is held that alters the average Games in some mind boggling way.

The past two Quells were both horrendous, the first stating that each District volunteer their own children while the second doubled the amount of tributes that would participate.

Caesar nods in agreement to what Claudius said.

"Yes that is sure to get everyone pumped up and ready for next year's marvelous Games. The twist will be announced by President Snow himself, but as of now the specific time of the announcement is unknown."

What ever it is most be big and it has me nervous at the moment, dreading the worse. I glance over to Gloxen whose face is shrouded in unconcealed horror. I reach over to give his hand a slight comforting squeeze. He squeezes before letting go again.

When I turn back to the screen, Caesar is saying that the viewing for the reaping recaps will be starting now.

And with that we're engrossed in the reapings. They start off in District One, the luxury District. The escort there reaches into the basket of the girl tribute's ball after announcing 'Ladies first!' Before she calls out the name of whoever is in the slip, a beautiful blond steps from the eighteen year old section, bright blue eyes sparkling like one of the sapphires her District is famous for.

When she gets to the stage, her escort asks for her name.

"Vaneselle Sapphire," she says with a dazzling smile. I roll my eyes. Her first name actually sounds nice and unique but her last name makes the entire thing sound ridiculous.

Her escorts beams. "Now for the boys!"

She doesn't even get her hand into the ball before a tall boy from the seventeen year old section with a slim build makes his way up the steps. He has a slight grin that he sends the crowds before looking at the cameras and winking. Caesar and Claudius chuckles at his confidence.

When he mounts the stage, he announces his name without prompting. " I'm Malachi Dreyton." The tight skin around the escorts mouth stretches even further. She then says into the microphone, "Give it up for District One's Tributes Vaneselle Sapphire and Malachi Dreyton!"

The crowd goes wild with applause and shouts of good fortune and both tributes stand there grinning, basking in the praise of their District before being whisked off.

Up next is District Two, the District responsible for masonry, weapons, and peacekeepers. The escort with her cone shaped orange sherbert colored hair greets the District before calling out for a female volunteer.

A dark haired girl steps from my age group, the fifteen year old section. She strides up the stage like she owns it before announcing her name to the crowd.

"The name's Clove McIntyre." The escort calls for the crowd to 'simmer down' before she calls for a boy volunteer. She's apparently a no-nonsense type person.

Someone steps out from the eighteen year old section. His dirty blond hair shines in the sunlight and reflects off his green eyes. He takes his sweet time getting to the stage, smirking the entire way. The escort appears to be annoyed but the look on his face clearly says he doesn't give a damn.

"What's your name, young man?" she asks.

He looks around like he's considering her question. I chuckle a bit, getting quite a few looks from around the room

"What?" I ask but no one answers. Elatia has this little smile planted on her face though for the rest of the viewing.

"Cato. Cato Harris."

I turn back to see the escort announce both of the tributes names before escorting them into the Justice Building.

"And here are the District Three Reaping Recaps," Claudius announces.

I try not to let any emotions show on my face and watch as if I were another tribute seeing this for the first time.

Elatia spins the ball onscreen and tugs out a slip. My slip. When my name is read, I'm proud to say that I don't appear to be weak or sniveling. But neither do I look like a contender. I'm... just there. I'm disappointed.

"Isn't that Nimmo Redpath's daughter?!" Caesar asks. Claudius nods.

"Yes. It appears that after learning that she was reaped, her mother committed suicide in her office. They found her dead later that day."

I hear the smash well before I realize that I've thrown my cup clear across the room. I barely pick up enough on Elatia's conversation to a avox that I broke the screen when I'm being scooped up in the arms of someone.

Most of it is a blur, sorrow and raged filled tears pouring down my face as whoever is holding me pats my back and runs calm fingers through my hair as I sob and scream until my throat is raw.

It shouldn't surprise me, but it does. Those bastards are really going to chalk up my mother's death to her not being able to see me go and choosing a selfish way to go out. My mother would never do such a thing.

When my eyes are completely sore, but no longer wet, I run my hand over my face and reluctantly pull back to see Beetee looking down at me, his eyes full of sympathy.

"Beetee, it-"

"I know, sweetheart, I know." And with the look he gives me, I know he does. I also know that he just saved me from making a huge mistake.

Three peacekeepers have taken the places of Gloxen, Lilah, and Elatia, and are positioned around the room, face protectors lifted and eyes watching me warily. I just bury my face back into Beetee's chest until he taps me gently.

I pull back to see a blond female avox in her late twenties standing with a another mug full of something. I take it with a nod in her direction before taking a sip. My sore throat and stuffy nose seems to get better with every bit I drink.

I finish and set the cup on the ground, feeling physically much better. From the corner of my eyes I see each peacekeeper relax slightly. Under other circumstances, this would be funny.

"Attention, we are preparing to enter the train station in five minutes. That is all," comes over the intercom.

This is the time I should use to go and try to make myself presentable. However, I could really careless at the moment and besides everyone will have expected that I'd have had a moment anyway. It's not like it hurts anything with what I saw of myself in the recaps.

The train lurches and then stills. We have arrived in the Capitol train station. Beetee and I rise and enter car that allows us to exit. Gloxen and Elatia are already and they both look unsure of me as stop near them.

I reach for Gloxen's hand and ignore Elatia's pitying gaze as I ask, "Allies?"

He looks shocked but quickly nods. A scoff catches my attention and I look up to see Lilah shaking her head in disgust. A glance behind me shows Beetee with a questioning look. I ignore that too, and as the doors open, I put on the brightest smile I can manage before stepping out.

**To anyone suicide may have affected that reads my story, please know that this is purely a characters view of suicide and not my own. I hope I have not offended anyone in anyway. That is all.**

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	5. Chapter 5

**I'd love to give a shout out to Mental, Anna, seanthesheep356, and movies798 for all taking the time to leave a review. I truly appreciate the support. I do not own or claim to own anything Hunger Games related- I'm simply borrowing from Ms. Collins. :) **

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter Five**

_A glance behind me shows Beetee with a questioning look. I ignore that too, and as the doors open, I put on the brightest smile I can manage before stepping out._

The lights flash bright enough to blind us momentarily as we slowly make our way to the limo waiting to take us to the Training Center. Along the way, we've gotten separated from Beetee, Elatia, and Lilah. I try to keep the smile firmly in place as the crowd shout our names.

Most have heard the twisted version of my ordeal and are now giving out their unwanted condolences. It falls upon death ears considering most will have forgotten about me and my mother should I meet a grisly end in the arena.

I have Gloxen practically glued to my side, his hand held tight in mine, as I wave with my left one halfheartedly. The peacekeeper procession is moving too slowly; I can hear the gossip about me, about the both of us and clearly Gloxen can too because the look on his face is one of pure defeat.

I start to push against the backs of the peacekeepers to get them moving. One looks back irritation coloring his face, and pauses. His companion stops when he notices and tries to get him to keep going.

I just stare back. "Do you have a problem, jackass?" His eyes narrow further.

"Come on, Rus. She's not worth it. Hell she'll probably be dead by the end of day one." Ass. I don't know which is more annoying, his preconceived thoughts on my potential in the arena or the fact that he wants to get his buddy to stand down. I'm itching to blow off steam and this peacekeeper is seeming like the perfect distraction.

Rus says nothing, but neither does he continue forward. I simply raise an eyebrow, daring him to make a move. He looks like he wants to strike, I can see it in his cold black eyes and I welcome it. I stare right back not bothered in the least.

"What? Your master's hold is so strong that you can't speak?" I give a small condescending smile as he snarls.

"Look here you little bitch-"

"No you see, I think he has his little pussycat whipped right into shape." I say, cutting him off mid sentence. For emphasis, I make a whipping motion with my hand accompanied by the snapping sound. And I've got him.

He's stepping forward rearing back his hand while I'm pushing a wide eyed Gloxen behind me and to the side as I quickly dodge. The crowd, which I'd forgotten completely about, is in hysterics as I get into a defensive position.

He literally growls at me and I beckon him forward in a come hither motion; he's preparing to charge but low and behold help comes, much to my vexation. His buddy grabs him in a firm headlock as he curses me and my "whore of mother" at the top of his lungs, spittle flying, while Elatia rushes forward from somewhere behind, yelling her head off.

"The intentional harming of an tribute is against the rules! You of all people should know that! I'll be sure to send in a report to your superior! Lets see how you try to explain attacking my tribute, you blundering Neanderthal-"

"Oh shut up, you pompous Capitol bitch! How about you explain your worthless piece of shit tribute's assaulting of a-"

"For Game's sake, just _shut_ up Rus! You're only-"

A hand is placed on my shoulder and I look to see Beetee. He ushers Gloxen and I on past the current altercation, leaving them behind to bicker. We arrive at the limo quickly. If only this had happened in the first place.

Gloxen enters first and I follow quickly. We move down the seat to allow Beetee and Lilah in. They shut the door behind them and we're welcomed to sweet, sweet silence. Which Lilah feels the need to break.

"Well that was, for the lack of a better word... interesting. Care to explain what that was all about."

Sighing I turn my head her way to address her.

"The peacekeepers were creeping along and it was bugging me." They look expectantly at me, waiting for more information. "_Rus_ decided to pause I guess as a intimidation tactic while his buddy tried to calm him down-"

"And let me guess, you called him on his bullshit?" She fills in the blanks. I stay silent.

"Well. Perhaps we'll be able to spin something out of this from the uproar you stirred in the crowd. That's of course if that footage is used." You can practically see the wheels spinning in her head.

"That was pretty funny. The whole whip thing,"says Gloxen under his breath.

I feel a small smile appear on my face. "I know right. And the look on his face afterward- priceless."

We both start giggling uncontrollably, the sound filling the small space. It feels pretty good to have a bit of the pressure lift from my chest, to not have my thoughts dwelling on just the negativity. From the corner of my eye, I see Beetee smiling softly while Lilah still appears to be lost in thought.

As our laughing starts to cease, the limo door opens and a wide-eyed, flustered Elatia slides her way in onto the seat directly across from me.

"The nerve of that bumbling fool! How dare he even have the notion to lay one of his grubby fingers on you-"

"Elatia, calm down. It's alright. Really. I could have and can handle myself and I'm sure you'll have handled him when you give your report to his boss," I begin to placate her before continuing.

"However I'd like to forget about it at least for right now." Yes, especially since I didn't get to finish the job. "So if you'd kindly..."

I have done what I planned on doing; she looked as if she'd been ready to start in on me, which I really did not want to hear. But as I went on, her face expression softened a bit with every word.

"Of course dear. I know after the day you've had, the least you'd want to deal with is reminders of past foolishness."

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath before running a hand calmly through her cerulean locks. When she opens them again, they're calm and clear. She calls out to the driver to proceed in taking us to the Training Center.

"And step on it! We have to get back on schedule." Her head focuses back in Gloxen and my direction. "Okay, once we arrive. You two will both be whisked off to your prep teams, who will... prep you before turning you over to your stylists."

Beetee pipes up from my right with, "No matter how much you don't like what happens to you, do not complain. Stylists are terrible at receiving criticism." He glances over to Lilah who just rolls her eyes and looks away.

"This one here didn't heed my advice. Her stylist sent her stark naked for her chariot debut and and made her an see through leotard for the interviews."

Elatia actually snorts, receiving a death glare from Lilah.

"I remember that. The only thing blocking a view of her.. indecency," She laughs even harder, "were nuts and bolts woven into the fabric. Must have chaffed something fierce!"

I'm grinning and even Lilah, though annoyance wins over most of her face, is smiling a bit.

"It did. And Morgana wanted me to wear a overly revealing dress. Why shouldn't I have said anything."

"So you'd rather have gone out in your birthday suit instead?"Elatia retorts.

And everyone is laughing, granted, in Lilah's expense. Her smile becomes a pout and and she's back to glaring out the window.

"We're here," shouts the driver over our laughter and it effectively kills the mood.

With everyone sobered up, we start to pile out of the car and onto the curb. There's paparazzi outside with camera's flashing away. This time around Elatia leads the way, pushing past the peacekeepers.

We make it into the Training Center without incident this time around. With a pat to my shoulder and a reassuring smile, Beetee heads off in some other direction. Lilah has already made a disappearing act.

Elatia claps her hands lightly.

"Well let's get you to your prep team, shall we?"

-o.0.O.0.o-

As Myren and Christophe work on filing my nails to a fine point and plucking whatever stray hair lingers on my body, they both gush over how little work is needed to 'make me presentable' and that they're so glad considering that they've only left us a hour and a half due to the time we managed to get here. I can agree with them on that point at least.

It being Elatia's first year as a escort and first year ever being in the Training Center meant that she had absolutely no idea of where we were to head to, which meant almost an hour of aimlessly wondering down narrow hallways and numerous corridors.

I'd asked her whether or not we should ask for directions twenty-five minutes prior, but she'd declined saying that she was absolutely sure we were on the right track this time around. Which I had come to learn meant she was too embarrassed to admit being lost and needing help.

I'd finally had enough, my feet were starting to ache from the high heeled boots I'd been wearing, and I was now regretting the decision of not eating much on the train. My stomach's growling only reiterated that point, so I stopped the next available avox to ask which way the Remake Center was. Ironically, we were heading in the right direction and Elatia, who hadn't had the slightest clue, had the nerve to smile triumphantly.

I left her in my metaphorical dust cloud, a trailing Gloxen not to far behind, which lead up to the past twenty minutes of minimum beautification. It is aggravating me to hear the same thing on repeat, especially because not three days ago had my mother and I went on a mandatory spa day she'd set up for us as a bonding experience.

It was her way of checking in on my well being- I'd been quite distant after Chloe's death- and most likely her way of spending a day with her daughter that she could possibly lose by next week. Only she probably didn't expect to be dead herself.

_"You will not cry. You will not cry, You will not cry."_ I repeat to myself in my thoughts and grit my teeth. I really wish they'd shut up, or that I'd had something to zone them out. Augustus, the only one who is decent in my opinion, gives me a pitying look. It may be genuine, it truly may, but it makes me want to slap him.

While trying to ignore Myren's nasally voice as she spouts out about how she's glad my hair is already full of life and has a lively bounce, her reptilian clawed hands moving in wild gestures, I notice a large floor model projector screen. I cut in while she's still talking.

"Excuse me? Excuse me?!" I've gotten their attention now, Myren in particular looking put out about being interrupted. "Hey, I was wondering if you could turn that t.v on. I missed most of the reaping recaps earlier and I'd like to view them, please."

"Yes, of course! We didn't get to watch either. Sophitia- I love her, I do but come on- had us working final details for your chariot outfit. You'll simply love it to pieces!"

I highly doubt it. Christophe sets down his nail file after finishing and fumbles around, shaking magenta bangs to the side before pulling up a touch pad. He taps a button and the screen flutters to life.

Muttering a smile thanks, I focus my attention as they show District Two once again, only without all of the commentary. District Three is shown again and I stare at my unassuming presence before Gloxen in his too big clothes comes to stand by me. Quite the pitiful pair we look.

On the bright side no one will expect me to be able to handle my own. I could maybe even pull a Johanna Mason. Take them by surprise. Even now, that idea doesn't sit with me well. Doing that seems too underhanded.

And now I'm getting into morality. In a Game where it's kill or be killed. I mentally scoff at myself and refocus on the screen. It's gotten to District Four and I need to pay close attention. The escort pulls a name from the girl tribute's ball.

"Tressa Rivendell!"

A beautiful girl with caramel colored skin and a pleasant smile steps out from the sixteen year old section. Her light hazel eyes shine with determination as she makes her way forward. Once on the stage, the escort asks for volunteers. No one steps forward. Well that's odd. I'd have thought someone would volunteer in her stead.

Seeing no one stepping forward, her escort goes over to the boys ball and pulls a slip. She calls out a name.

"Nicklaus McCullough!"

Nicklaus steps out from the seventeen year old section, mouth formed in a thin line. He walks rather quickly up the steps and stands beside the girl, Tressa. The escort asks for a volunteer and again no one does. The escort shrugs, announces them as District Four's tributes before having them shake hands. Tressa moves a piece of light brown hair blown by a light breeze from in front of her eyes before doing so. Afterward they're ushered into the Justice Building.

There are several tributes that stand apart to me, aside from the careers. The sly looking red head, Finch, from District Five who practically glides up onto the stage, the boys from District's Seven-he volunteers clearly for the pixie haired fifteen year old who's balling her eyes out- and Nine, the bright green eyed girl from Ten. At District Eleven, a small twelve year old girl is reaped. I pity her mostly because she's near Gloxen's age. Her district partner looks quite capable to hold his own. Other than shaking hands, he doesn't spare her a second glance.

I frown. He'd probably kill her if it comes down to it. Maybe- no. I already have Gloxen to deal with. She'd only dead weight, which is something I can't afford. The doom and gloom that is Twelve appears. The pink frilly escort gives introductions before reaching for the girl's ball. She reads the name off, which apparently shocks the district.

"Primrose Everdeen!"

A little blond steps out not even making it halfway before a dark-haired girl steps from the sixteen year old section.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

Myren and Christophe both go banana's around me as the girl storms up the stage after escaping the little blond's death grip on her. Her escort learns that her name is Katniss and that the girl was her sister. After a horrible joke of her not allowing honor to be stolen and a deadpan from the crowd she moves on, reaping a unassuming dark haired fourteen year old, thus completing the recaps.

"Can you believe it?! Two volunteers from the outer districts and District Twelve is one of them! Plus did you see all of tributes this time around?" Myren squeals as if it is one of the biggest of scandals.

"Yes! Alana, dear, you're gonna have your hands full with this lot," Christophe says as he applies white nail polish on the tips of my left hand before switching over.

"That's saying she survives. You know Three's almost always are bloodbaths. Only that Claire girl made to the final three and you saw how that ended." Myren utters matter-of-factually.

She looks down and notices the look on my face.

"Oh my. Did I hurt you? Silly me, getting lost in mindless chatter and I've gone and hurt her." It's not even worth being pissed; she's so dense, they all are, that there's almost no point.

"You didn't hurt me. And her name wasn't Claire, it was Chloe." Augustus picks up on my tone and the pitying look intensifies.

"You knew her." It's not a question and my silence is enough of a answer. He stands up signaling to the others to do the same. "We're done here. Your stylist, Sophitia, will be in to see you in a moment." And I'm left alone.

During the entire experience I'd been told to stay naked. Taking the slight wait, I scoop up the bathrobe and tie the thin belt around my waist. I sigh in relief, no longer feeling so exposed and turn to towards the the chair in front of the screen. I'd left my clothes over on it once I'd been made to strip. I look over the edge to see.. it's not there.

It's not. _There._ I'm breathe in and out slowly and steadily, trying not to hyperventilate. My bracelet. It'd been my only reminder of home, my token. I'd laid my jacket down along with everything else and I remember specifically placing it in my pocket... which still held my father's torn letter.

"Shit, shit, shit, Shit!" Oh God, how could I have been so stupid. Now I no longer have my token and my father's letter could fall into the wrong hands.

"Okay. Think about it. There's nothing really on it that would tell anything discriminating. And that's if they get all the pieces together. It's okay. It's all okay." I mutter this all under my breath and have just gotten myself back under control when I feel someone's hand on my shoulder.

**Eh, I made this a cliffy unintentionally. For that I'm sorry. Until next time, everyone.**

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